


No Further Ado

by myashke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myashke/pseuds/myashke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Spacii for the Merlin Games Team Canon Team Building fic exchange!</p><p>Arthur coaxes Merlin into revealing his feelings...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Further Ado

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spacii](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Spacii).



Arthur stepped into the blessedly hot water and eased himself down, moaning at the sting of the heat all along his aching body. Sitting through the over-long council meeting that morning had not only been a trial of will, it had done more harm to his body than an entire day of training would have.

“I’ve laid out soap and a cloth on the stool, and your robe is just here,” Merlin said, looking anywhere but at Arthur, the flush high on his cheeks.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Arthur asked, closing his eyes and laying his head back on the rim of the tub.

“No, Sire. I was just going to tidy your room while you bathe.”

‘Sire’ again - and that was just one formality too many on top of the nightmare of a day he’d had.

“Come here. I’m too sore to move,” Arthur said, assuming Merlin would understand his meaning, even though he'd never once asked this of Merlin. "And stop calling me that. It's bad enough you follow me around like a puppy, fetching me things before I even ask for them, behaving like a proper servant for the first time... well - ever! Just because I've been crowned King does not mean I want a slave to lick my boots."

Merlin’s worn shoe soles made little noise on the flagstones as he crossed to the tub, but Arthur could feel Merlin’s body relax, could feel the tension in the room dissipate until it was as if it had never been there at all.

"I'd never do that. I know where your boots have been."

"In a dusty council room with six stodgy old men who can't tell their elbows from their arseholes."

Merlin chuckled softly. "And you're a reckless colt in their eyes, I'm sure. They don't know you yet. Give them time."

As Merlin knelt down beside the tub, the air stirred and Arthur caught the faint scent of his skin. He smelled just a little bit musky, the scent heady. Like need, like hidden, secret desire. Desire locked away behind layers of clothes and lowered eyes and careful words.

Years of them, in fact.

Arthur reached along the edge of the tub and leant forward, bending his neck from side to side in a long stretch. He stopped and let his arms sink into the water as Merlin laid a warm hand on his skin, massaging the base of his neck, fingers kneading with strong, sure motions.

“Shall I wash your hair first?” The soft tremor in Merlin's voice gave away his thinly-veiled arousal even more absolutely than his scent.

He wanted Arthur, and Arthur asking for his hand - for his touch - in the bath? Well, it was bold, a bit uncouth, perhaps, but not unheard-of. He hadn't meant to push Merlin into anything uncomfortable, but he didn’t think Merlin had any true objections.

“Mmm, yes, my hair," Arthur agreed, tilting his head back against Merlin's hand, letting his eyes fall closed.

The words were hardly passed his lips when Merlin scooped up a handful of water and poured it down the back of his head. Again and again, Merlin's fingers smoothing over his hair, wetting it slowly, gently.

It had been awhile since Arthur asked a servant to help him bathe. In fact, if he remembered correctly, he'd not been bathed by anyone else since he was still a youth, ill and so weak that he couldn't manage it himself. He could manage now if he tried, but why should he when Merlin had two perfectly capable hands and seemed more than willing?

He and Merlin had been skirting around their... odd little connection now for months. Perhaps Merlin needed reassurance to fuel his courage. Perhaps a King could feel things for a loyal servant that he never could for anyone else. There were stories like that - Morgana had read them as a child, then play-acted them in fancy dresses with tall hats and ribbons everywhere.

There was no maid here, no princess, but somehow, it seemed such an odd thing that his relationship with Merlin might imitate such fanciful stories.

Merlin was at his side every single day, forever putting Arthur's needs - Camelot's needs - ahead of his own. There was no one in the world he trusted more than Merlin. The realization struck him just as Merlin laid a hand on his chest, urging him to lie back in the water and rinse his hair. He let himself be guided, knowing with absolute certainty that Merlin would never let him fall.

As he sat up, Arthur wrapped his arms around his bent knees and hugged them loosely, inhaling slowly, breathing in Merlin and the sharp, clean scent of the soap and savouring the undeniable hum of arousal between them. His cock thickened in his lap, pressing against his stomach. Arthur didn't do a thing to stop the thoughts or his body's reaction to them.

Merlin's hands closed, warm and heavy between his shoulder-blades, beginning to work his sore upper back, knuckles gliding smoothly, deeply along the lines of his muscles.

Arthur groaned, making encouraging noises as Merlin dug the heel of his hand into a knot, coaxing the muscle to relax, then smoothing the knot into nothingness with the tips of his fingers.

His touch softened to a caress, his hands skating along Arthur's wet skin, curving over his shoulders and squeezing.

Before Merlin could once again break the intimacy they'd somehow stumbled upon, Arthur laid a hand over the one on his shoulder, pulling Merlin's touch down over his chest. "Don't stop," he whispered, turning his head to meet Merlin's wide, heated gaze. "Unless you wish to."

The shake of Merlin's head was nearly imperceptible, but his fingers spread wide against Arthur's skin and he knelt up, bringing their faces closer together.

"Breathe, Merlin," Arthur said softly, grinning as Merlin gave him a rueful look.

"I'm breathing," Merlin whispered, though it was little more than a breath itself. "I don't want to stop. This, I mean, not breathing, although I don't want to stop that, either-"

Merlin's words cut off abruptly as Arthur pushed his hand lower, holding the palm against his taut stomach, willing Merlin to move it lower and take what he wanted. What they both wanted. "If you don't breathe, I won't be able to hear you. And I want to hear you, Merlin."

The hand on his stomach slid down, Merlin's long, wonderful fingers curling into a fist around Arthur's straining cock. At Merlin's soft gasp, Arthur drew his arm out of the water and wrapped his hand around Merlin's neck, pulling him in for an unhurried kiss.

Merlin's breath came, then, harsh and ragged as he opened to Arthur, his lips parting even before Arthur could urge them to.

Their tongues brushed together and Arthur swallowed Merlin's moan, then gave as good as he'd gotten, though his was lower and more urgent. Merlin kissed like he'd never wanted anything else, like he could never get enough of it. The intense intimacy raced over Arthur's skin, filling his chest and weighing on him in the best way possible.

They needed one another, he'd known that for years, but to literally need Merlin's touch? He'd never dreamed he could be so desperate for it, never imagined what a fool he'd been to think he could do without it for so long.

He pulled away, sliding his hand down Merlin's throat, tugging on the ever-present neckerchief and earning a half-grin before he ran the back of his hand down along the center of Merlin's chest. He stared into Merlin's eyes, glancing down for only the briefest of moments as he felt Merlin's hard cock through his breeches. He covered it with his wet hand, the water soaking into Merlin's clothes.

"Either you're getting in or I'm getting out," he said, raising his eyebrows and waiting - his own breath held now - for Merlin's answer.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at the chamber door, locked and barred as well now that Arthur was King and Merlin had an anti-chamber of his own within these rooms.

"Out," Merlin breathed, jerking his head toward the huge four-poster in the next room, biting his lip as if trying not to smile. "I'll reheat the water for us later," he added, standing and taking Arthur's elbow as he stepped from the tub. Merlin pulled him across the room, smiling into their kisses and pulling the cloth from Arthur's hips, pressing him back down onto the bed.

Arthur went willingly, pulling Merlin on top of him, hands cupping Merlin's face. He rubbed his thumbs over Merlin's cheekbones, looking into his eyes and seeing only relief, surety, desire.

There would be no silly debating the issue, then, no protestations of propriety or duty.

They made more sense than anything in Arthur's life ever had, and he could see in Merlin's unwavering gaze that he felt the same way.


End file.
